


you’re a broken star (the darker it is, the more you shine)

by itsgameover, topkyungsoo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27590924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsgameover/pseuds/itsgameover, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topkyungsoo/pseuds/topkyungsoo
Summary: Junmyeon and Kyungsoo have strings attached to their bodies that neither of them wanted. It is what it is, as princes have no way of saying no to a crown.[ For top!soo fest round 4: Arranged marriage AU ]
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Junmyeon | Suho
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54
Collections: top!soo fest: round 4 (2020-2021)





	you’re a broken star (the darker it is, the more you shine)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Top!Soo Fest Round 4.  
> Experiencing tranquility and joy writing royalty AUs is not technically therapy but it feels like it.  
> With love to my underrated otp, KyungMyeon <3  
> Thank you mods for your wonderful words of encouragement, you are the best <3  
> Hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

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“I can’t wait to see her,” Jongin says, flopping on the bed with a big grin spreading across his face “One of the maids says she is one of the most beautiful women in all the seven realms”

“That pretty?” Junmyeon asks, smiling at his brother. How can one be so smitten with someone they have only spoken to in letters? It sounds impossible, but here is Jongin, Third Prince and restless by nature, falling for a woman he hasn’t even met but has been engaged to since he was sixteen. 

Originally, it was Junmyeon who would have had to marry Crown Princess Chaeyoung, but the tides changed and the pair of monarchs agreed to marry Jongin to the girl. Second Prince Junmyeon landed himself a modest job as Lord of the Privy Seal and freedom to be with whoever he pleased. 

It’s better like this, Junmyeon thinks, running a hand through his younger brother’s hair and laughing when he fumbles on the bed to get away from him. Jongin is younger, sweeter, much well suited to be a supporting husband for a future queen than stubborn and licentious Junmyeon. Besides, Jongin actually shows interest in females for more than inviting them to play cricket or cards and gamble pieces of jewelry that he will return as birthday presents. 

It’s not Junmyeon’s fault that pretty girls with rounded hips attract him as much as a donkey but the blacksmith’s son catches his eyes the moment he walks out of the forge, chiseled abs on full display. 

“Of course she is! She must be!” Jongin exclaims, turning in bed until he is flat on his stomach, hugging one of the pillows. “Even if people called her ugly she would still be the most beautiful woman to me because she will be my wife” he sighs, a dreamy expression on his face “And I’ll be hers and we will have sons and daughters to fill the halls of this castle.”

“That would be an admirable feat considering this castle has 274 rooms” 

Jongin huffs, “as if I won’t use every chance to-”

“Gross,” he takes a hand to his chest, dramatic expression on his features, “don’t tell me about your libido for your still physically-unknown bride. I’m your brother, for heaven’s sake!”

“You are a wimp”

“Quiet, child!” the older says, smacking him playfully on the back “Speaking of this castle, I will go out to explore it. Want to come with me?”

“No, I want to save myself for the banquet” the young prince jumps from the bed, running to his ocean of new clothes stored in several oakwood trunks “I need to look my very best!”

“Fair enough,” Junmyeon says, putting on his brown jacket “then it’s farewell, Prince Charming.” Jongin’s indignant expression follows him as he leaves the room. 

For as spacious and luxurious as the guest rooms may be, Junmyeon doesn’t intend for his few days visiting Goyang to be spent in those white-walled rooms. There is a foreign castle, with gardens and fountains and terraces, to be explored and how can he not be interested in the place when there are so many rumours about ghosts and mythological creatures showing up within the grey fortress.

In the twists and turns of the halls and the gardens, Junmyeon sees, well, him. 

Junmyeon stands by the courtyard in silence, toying with the tassels of his uniform, as he was instructed by Minseok -his older brother and King- to wear at all times in Goyang, watching as the handsome man takes his sword from the ground and goes back to sparring with a few nameless faces that Junmyeon doesn’t really care about. Oh no, no, because he only cares about this man. This silent figure with furrowed eyebrows and plump lips, not the tallest of the bunch but definitely carrying his own height with dignity and poise. 

Regal and fierce, a bit coarse around the edges. Junmyeon likes that in a man. 

Junmyeon remembers him as one of the few people in the welcoming party in the frontier. It had been hilarious to see the smile on Jongin’s face die as he saw a short man with big eyes step down from the carriage instead of his bride. 

The hilarity of it died when Junmyeon got a closer look at the man and found that well, he may not be the beloved Crown Princess, but he was handsome, with plump pink lips and a perpetually serious expression. And there was something about this prince’s body, about those pretty cream-colored breeches, that made Junmyeon crave peaches, go figure why. 

He found out his name almost immediately after he saw him for the first time, because they both are princes, introductions are always too overcrowded with formalities and people in neat uniforms repeating titles of nobility that nobody cares about. Kyungsoo, Prince of Goyang, eldest brother of Crown Princess Chaeyoung, but unfit to inherit as he was the son of a concubine and not of a Queen like his sister was. Still, rumour has it that he has no interest in ruling as he has no interest in marrying a female. He is an outcast of the crown, much like Junmyeon, and that sounds rather nice. 

In the height and the supposedly shared aversion for sex with females end all similarities between the two. Junmyeon sees his stumble back but the fierce little man catches his weight in the very last second, turning the tide in his favour and making his enemy fall backwards, back on the floor as the tip of a sword brushes his chin. 

He wrinkles his nose in disgust when the pair of men hug, there must be so much sweat clinging to their clothes. Junmyeon hates sparring. He is well versed in the art of the sword, neither of his brothers would have let him live being underprepared for a sword fight, but despises the act of doing it for  _ fun _ . 

What  _ fun  _ is in seeing a man sweat and pant if it’s not in your bed? 

Junmyeon calls this silly sport ‘ _ a senseless pursuit of arousal that goes unresolved’ _ . Jongin always blushes when he hears this. The youngest of the brothers only does it to impress the ladies. Minseok does it to prove he is the worthy king. Junmyeon doesn’t even bother proving anything, he knows he is good. 

When the matches prove to continue, the Second Prince rolls his eyes and spins on his heels, not before making direct eye contact with Prince Kyungsoo and smiling, bowing his head as a salutation and giggling when he sees he has caused a distraction that made the pretty Goyang prince lose his squabble. 

_ Bad luck to me _ , Junmyeon thinks as he walks away, it must have been wonderfully arousing to see the prince on his back in the middle of the courtyard. Just a little enticement to his imagination. 

  
  


Junmyeon is seated by Kyungsoo, Prince of Goyang, in the wedding banquet and that is certainly an unexpected but very much welcome turn of events. 

In the head of the table Crown Princess Chaeyoung and Prince Jongin seat. They seem to be well acquainted lovers, Jongin feeding spoonfuls of food into his bride’s mouth. She laughs and kisses him on the lips. They trade kisses for sips of wine and pieces of well-seasoned mutton, and snuggle close whenever they get the chance, his arm fitting perfectly around her shoulders, her head resting comfortably over his heart. 

Sickenly sweet, Junmyeon thinks as he drinks his mulled wine with a glare directed at his brother, Minseok, who keeps rambling about the benefits of the union to an already bored audience. Everyone is expecting his speech to end so the ball may start. Junmyeon is expecting it as well, there will be far better drinks then. 

“You drink too much” a deep voice states. Junmyeon’s eyebrows furrow as he turns to the speaking man, finding Kyungsoo’s serious expression by his side, eyes facing forward. “I’ve seen you drink four goblets of wine, I think you shouldn’t drink more if you wish to not embarrass your nation.”

“Who are you?” Junmyeon asks, playing the part of the drunken man and resting his head on the palm of his hand, staring at Kyungsoo intently. 

“Prince Kyungsoo of Goyang,” the man responds, emotionless and seemingly unphased.

“Ah, Prince Kyungsoo of Goyang,” Junmyeon repeats, pursing his lips and his eyebrows quip in the middle of his forehead, “And who gave His Highness Prince Kyungsoo of Goyang the authority to speak like a father to His Highness Second Prince Junmyeon of the Kingdom of the Mountains.”

“No one, but-”

“But?” Junmyeon smiles “Worry not, Kyungsoo of Goyang, I hold my wine very well. I’m as lucid as a seer watching the blue flames. Nothing but clarity and fortune telling.” He puts down his cup, shifting on his seat so he is facing the man by his side. “Want me to read your future?” Kyungsoo glares at him, clicking his tongue. Junmyeon smiles. “You are going to like me very much and you’ll regret not having me earlier.”

Kyungsoo coughs dramatically, taking his cup to avoid further eyes staring at him. Junmyeon bites his lip to keep from bursting in laughter. Funny how men react. The stiffer they are on the outside, the easier it is to rile them up and make them lose all sense of regal behaviour. 

The speech of his brother is over and the ball is to start. Finally, Junmyeon thinks as the entourage moves from the dining hall to the Amber Room, a grandiose ballroom with thousands of little yellow stones decorating every corner. Jongin takes the hand of his precious wife, kissing her fingers cladded in rings before taking her to the centre of the room as the musicians play their instruments with extraordinary precision. 

“Weren’t you the one who had to marry my sister?” Kyungsoo asks. 

The pair is once more together, standing in the back of the room, near a big crystal door that leads to the oil-lamp illuminated gardens, shadows creeping over the flourishing flower bushes.

The question makes Junmyeon jump a bit, coming out of the blue and hitting him like an arrow in the dark. Still, he schools his face to keep an unaffected expression, shrugging nonchalantly. 

“I guess they found out my secret.”

“Which is...?”

Junmyeon laughs, he is surely inebriated enough to lean close and rest his hand on the shoulder of the prince of Goyang, who stiffens till his body feels like a ship’s mast and Junmyeon wonders if something else about this prince would feel like a mast if he puts his hands near it. 

“I don’t have a liking for skirts as I do for dragoons’ uniforms” and when the Goyang man turns his head towards him, Junmyeon holds his gaze, one eyebrow shooting up as his mouth twists into a smirk. “Tell me, Kyungsoo of Goyang, which unit do you belong to?”

“The Black Dragoons,” the prince answers immediately. 

“Ah, the city guards. Interesting.” Junmyeon leans back on his place , observing as the queen consort of Goyang takes Jongin for a dance as Minseok takes Chaeyoung, two pairs gracefully moving around the room, skirts whispering in silk and velvet against the marble tiles. 

“And you?” Kyungsoo asks, turning to face him.

“Me? A dragoon?” Junmyeon sputters, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nonsense, I prefer administrative duties.”

“Are you a member of the King’s Council, then?” Kyungsoo’s expression turns amused and Junmyeon likes how nice he looks under this warm yellowish light. 

Junmyeon shakes his head, “I’m Lord of the Privy Seal, the position is less threatening than that of Councilman.” Upon Kyungsoo’s questioning brow, Junmyeon smiles and hastens to clarify “My brother has a liking for scolding his men in public, I’m safe of that as I only report about my duties in private.”

Once more, this piques interest in the Goyang man. “And which are those duties?”

“Basically, anything my brother seems fit I do.” Junmyeon shrugs, there is no better way to describe what he does in the palace back home. “In past times Lords of the Privy Seal used to have under their duties the care of the house of concubines and its inhabitants. But my brother is a bit of a prude in love with his consort.”

“Oh, is he remarried?” Kyungsoo asks, eyebrows shooting up in interest. “I heard his wife died in childbirth.”

“Yes, our Queen Soonkyu perished to birth my beloved nephew” Poor little Minhyung, killing his mother in order to be born. What a sad start in life. Junmyeon gulps down his wine before continuing to speak. “He is indeed remarried, to his former Lord Chamberlain, Lord Jongdae of the Silver Valley” Junmyeon shrugs, “I guess he likes both skirts and pants, but I am the only one scolded about pants issues.”

Kyungsoo laughs, “maybe because you make them too public.”

“Oh, so you have asked about me. Haven’t you, prince Kyungsoo?” Junmyeon smirks, eyebrows rising and falling in a second. “Tell me, what have the lowlifes of the mountains told you about my royal persona?”

Kyungsoo blushes, drinks a bit of his goblet and turns towards the door behind them. With one clear head gesture, Junmyeon understands it all. Heading out seems far better than standing in an overcrowded room watching the recently married couple frolic around with cheesy words and shiny smiles.

The pair walk in silence for a long moment, passing servants that move under the lowlights like tiny rats running from hole to hole. Junmyeon smiles at them, Kyungsoo merely bows his head in acknowledgment of their existence. It’s interesting to look back at the eldest child of a King and not see what he has seen in so many others, that rictus that only the weight of the crown can bring. For once, Junmyeon looks at an eldest child and thinks that being it must be really nice having all the benefits of bossing your younger siblings around but not dealing with the consequences of the heavy duties of inheriting something as big as the position of Head of State. 

After scoffing loudly, causing Junmyeon to laugh at his distress for being stared at, Kyungsoo proceeds to talk once more. “All I heard about you is that you are prone to frequently visit different partners to enjoy some afternoon delight.”

Junmyeon is very glad that they are not in the ballroom anymore, because his laughter would have caused ruckus amongst the guests. 

“Afternoon delight?” he questions, highly amused. “Heavens, I haven’t heard anyone refer to fucking with such words since my grandmother passed away.”

“Well, some of us still have certain education and a good image to uphold.” Kyungsoo seems offended, but the corners of his lips twitch up for a moment, so Junmyeon knows it’s all fun and games. 

“Good image to uphold?” Junmyeon leans close as they cross from one patio to the other through a hall. “As if you haven’t been attending tourneys around the capital with a fake name”

Kyungsoo stops dead in his tracks, turning to face Junmyeon with scandalized eyes. “How do you know that?” 

“Word gets around and men can be less loyal if you put enough coins in their pockets” he shrugs, smiling proudly at his feat. Good to know those squires weren’t lying. “So, the Bull Knight huh?” 

The prince of Goyang seems conflicted, throwing panicked glances around him before leaning towards Junmyeon and placing his right hand on his bicep. “No one has to know about this” he whispers, brow furrowed “If the queen knows she’ll have me exiled. That woman already hates me enough.”

“Worry not, soldier, your secret is safe with me” Junmyeon promises, drawing an X over his heart and another over his lips. Still, he takes his chance to rile up the consternated man a little bit more. “But don’t you think bull is inappropriate? I mean, you don’t seem big enough to be a bull, not enough strength-” 

His words die out as his breath is stolen, back hitting the marble wall, air escaping his lungs in a forceful exhalation. The prince of Goyang holds a knife to his throat (did he always have that knife?), blade caressing the skin of Junmyeon’s neck. There is something fierce in those big doe eyes, a storm waiting to happen. Junmyeon is scared and aroused. 

Junmyeon laughs, watching the right eyebrow of the handsome prince lift at this.  _ Fool _ , Junmyeon thinks with a giggle,  _ I love it rough _ . He extends a hand upwards, slowly to seem as non-threatening as possible, and puts back in its place a strand of raven hair that falls from Kyungsoo’s perfect hair. 

“Sorry,” Junmyeon says, low and sultry “I didn’t mean to anger you, Your Highness.”

“Quiet,” Kyungsoo commands, voice stern but low, because yes, anyone could find them in this common hall between the gardens. 

“Or else?” there is a split second of doubt crossing Kyungsoo’s eyes as the rebel prince speaks, but then Junmyeon lifts his hips, brushing the body of the man holding him against the wall and he sees it, physically sees the shift of shadows inside Kyungsoo’s irises and watches the flames ignite before he takes away the blade and crashes their lips together. 

It’s a little bit too forceful, a little bit too rough, but gracious gods, Junmyeons loves it. A knee parts his legs and he can’t even feel the ground when he gets to grind his aching groin against those gloriously broad tights. 

“You are such a whore,” Kyungsoo says, parting for air. Junmyeon laughs. 

“Of course not, I do not charge for pleasure.” The prince of Goyangs smiles before once more diving forward, tongue breaking past the seam of Junmyeon’s pink lips, hands gripping his ass and pressing their chests flush. “Still,” Junmyeon gasps, pushing him away “I have decency. Will you seriously take me in a hall where nosy people can see us?”

Kyungsoo grips Junmyeon’s body tighter, rolling his hips to draw a pained moan from Junmyeon’s throat. “I’m beginning to think you would like that.”

“I would,” comes as an answer, barely a whisper “but I wish not to ruin my brother’s wedding by taking the spotlight as the Second Prince that was fucked in the hallway by the Bull of Goyang.”

“Fair enough, follow me.” Kyungsoo says, pressing another insistent kiss against Junmyeon’s lips before taking his hand and dragging him towards a set of stairs.

After crossing many halls and opening far more doors that the foreign prince can tolerate, Kyungsoo slams a wooden door shut and pushes Junmyeon’s warm and willing body against a bed illuminated by the silver shine of the moon, stripping him quicker than any other before has been able to. 

“For the many gods, your body...” he says, before kissing the expanse of Junmyeon’s chest, descending slowly to his navel “Gorgeous, all of it” He parts his legs and sits in between them as he gets rid of his uniform and the layers and layers of clothing underneath it. 

“You are not too bad yourself,” Junmyeon answers, sitting up because he can’t get enough of the harsh and coarse kisses Kyungsoo’s plush lips dispense like the sweetest wine. 

Kyungsoo deserves the appelative of ‘The Bull’, Junmyeon thinks of it as he basks in the sickeningly sweet kisses that only the afterglow can deliver. He deserves it even if solely for the stamina he exhibits and the way he rams Junmyeon against the bed to the point of hearing the headboard bang against the wall. It’s glorious and it’s hot and Junmyeon is willing to rank Kyungsoo into the top 5 most skilled lovers he has ever had after he gets his ass pounded to ash and his life sucked out of his dick. 

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Sitting across from him, drinking a glass of champagne as the newly wedded couple hosts yet another brunch, Kyungsoo thinks Junmyeon is a strange sort of prince. He wears copious amounts of lace, with frills decorating the jabots and cuffs of his white shirt, open to show enough skin to be scandalous but not too much to deserve a reprimand. There is a lone golden earring hanging from his left lobe, a short chain with a tiny pearl swinging softly as he moves his head, lively speaking with his younger brother’s chamberlain, one tall and broad-shouldered man with a serious face who blushes any time the unruly prince compliments him. 

It’s a funny thing, to see Prince Junmyeon flirt with so many people and still have him panting under his body night after night since the wedding of their respective siblings. And both of them could have turned away from each other at any given point in the week and a half that the foreigners have spent in the court, but for some reason they didn’t. Kyungsoo suspects that both of them are enjoying a little bit too much the roughhouse and manhandling that always takes place before he fucks Junmyeon hard and thoroughly. 

Kyungsoo scoffs, turning his attention back to the party rather than the gorgeous but ultimately empty and superficial man that sits on the other side of the narrow table. His sister calls his name, asking him to be the first one in the archery tourney. 

Of course, an archery tourney would be Chaeyoung’s choice of entertainment. She loves to hit bullseye and make everyone around her feel incompetent and insignificant. As if her being the future queen wasn’t enough for people to bow down.

Even the archery event is opulent, with large tents embroidered with gold thread to display the lion that is the sigil of the realm,

It’s like all things are in this court, like the brunch before with its lewd amounts of food and drinks, pretty people wearing their most expensive garments and their best decorated pieces of jewelry.

Kyungsoo doesn’t enjoy opulency, this display of decadency wrapped in silk and diamonds. He’d much rather live with his mother, former concubine of the king and a duchess on her own right, living in a small castle north of the capital, in the sunny valley where the best wines of the realm are made. 

She came to court for ambition, of course, but for power not for bracelets made of gold. Kyungsoo’s mother is witty and clever, but wears simple clothing and prefers to spend her days reading rather than hosting pointless events that only exist to show how much wealth you have. 

Someday, Kyungsoo thinks as he draws the arrow and stares at the target with narrowed eyes, after the king has died and his sister has at least an heir and a spare, he will leave the court and run back to the fields his mother owns. Maybe she’ll teach him once and for all how to grow blueberries and maybe he’ll find someone out there to be with forever. 

“Excellent participation, Your Highness,” Junmyeon says after the tourney has ended, surprisingly with a draw between the Crown Princess and her newly wedded husband. 

There is a mocking tone in the foreign prince’s voice and it makes Kyungsoo smirk. He is this needy already, so desperate to rile Kyungsoo up so much that they have no other choice but to take it to the bedroom? After the first few encounters, it’s easy to read him, like an open book.

The teasing, the mockery, the subtle touching, the shiny eyes that beg for someone to take him apart, break him by the seams and put him back together again. Kyungsoo is not an enthusiast of one night relationships, but it’s not like fucking this handsome half-stranger is going to mean something after he leaves. It’s not like this prince who has been granted freedom to be and do whatever he wishes would stick by the side of a man like Kyungsoo. 

That’s why there is no emotion in the way he takes the prince back into his room, pushes him against the wall and kisses him until they are breathless and beyond aroused. There is no sensibility or care in the way he grabs Junmyeon by the neck and sinks him to his knees, watching those eyes grow wide and then catch fire as soon as Kyungsoo pushes down his breeches and let’s Junmyeon do his magic with those beautiful pink lips of his. 

When they return to the society, it’s way past afternoon and the foreign prince’s brother is looking for him desperately. 

“Where have you been?” Prince Jongin screams, exasperated, “Our brother wants to speak to you!” And then he whisks away the handsome prince, who throws one last glance at Kyungsoo and winks. 

Kyungsoo turns away to entertain himself with some bored warrior noble in the courtyards, but his path is cut short when his sister appears, dressed in a simple blue dress and beckoning him to follow her. 

“Father wants to speak to you,” she whispers when they walk down the hallway that leads to the King’s elegant and spacious study. 

“Have I done something wrong?” Kyungsoo asks, putting his hands behind his back in the martial way that his father likes. 

“I know not, brother. But he didn’t seem angry when he asked me to call you.” Chaeyoung shrugs, stepping back when the doors open “Hope it is good omens, brother”

“So do I.”

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Junmyeon gapes, simply gapes. His eyes blow wide open and his jaw drops, hands tightly laced over his lap. 

“This has to be some sort of mistake,” he says, sounding as polite as possible despite his current need to jump on a long sword. “You have to call it off!” 

“No mistake has been made, Junmyeon, and there is no diplomatic way out of this as of now” Minseok assures him, shaking his head softly. 

It has to be a mistake. Junmyeon doesn’t want to marry, doesn’t want to be shackled down and burdened with wearing a ring around his finger and being owned like a pet, even if he would have the same ‘ownership’ over his partner. Less he wants to be wed to a man he has been consistently fucking for the last weeks. 

Besides, the plan is absolute bonkers. Both realms have been disputing a small territory to the south, which vantage point is a port sitting in a broad and clear bay, perfect for a merchant city. But since both realms have been constantly fighting over it, the city is not the prosperous harbor they both want it to be. With the wedding of the Crown Princess of Goyand and the Third Prince of the Kingdom of the Mountains, the kingdoms have established not only a truce but an alliance, that they intend on sealing with the wedding of their remaining single children, Junmyeon and Prince Kyungsoo of Goyang. 

It has to be a same-sex couple, his brother insisted, since they won’t be able to have children of their own, thus not creating another dispute in the following generation about the ownership of the territory. It’ll be a satellite state of both kingdoms, ruled by a married couple of same sex princes, one from Goyang and one from the Mountains, allowing it to remain neutral and independent but still loyal to both nations. 

Junmyeon hates it. 

“Nonsense!” Junmyeon protests, standing up, stomping like a child as he does “I won’t marry!”

“It is not your choice to make. I didn’t choose my late wife, neither did Jongin.” Minseok says, shaking his head from side to side softly. “And you are the Second Prince, behind my own son in the succession line, your marriage was never going to be a choice”

“I refuse-”

“You can’t refuse, brother. As I said, it’s not your choice to make.” Minseok’s voice is sturdier now, harder around the edges in a way that reminds Junmyeon of how he deals with rowdy councilmen. “The treaty is signed, both of your Royal Houses have been officially stated and the wedding is set for the fourth day of the seventh month-”

Junmyeon smacks his hands against the wooden table his brother is sitting behind “That’s in less than three months!” 

“Yes and you are to live with your fiancé until the ceremony takes place.”

He leaves the room like a storm taking place, smashing the door on his way out and walking out with the steps of someone who is looking for a rope long enough to hang himself from. And his steps take him all the way to the courtyard and like that very first time in the castle there is a familiar figure in there. But he is not sparring, not even practicing on his own like his brother would obsessively do, he is just standing there, cleaning the blade of his sword with a dirty rag. 

Their eyes meet and Kyungsoo straightens up, marching towards the edge of the courtyard where Junmyeon stands. 

“Did you know?” Junmyeon asks. 

Kyungsoo shakes his head, “Wish I had known.”

Junmyeon scoffs, “Would it have made any difference?”

“Of course it would,” the prince of Goyang answers, evading Junmyeon’s eyes, “I certainly didn’t bed you with the intention of marrying you.” 

“Bed you,” Junmyeon’s laugh makes the prince look at him, “You are so stuck up. Our marriage will be a nightmare.”

The corners of his lips raise slowly, “Didn’t expect anything less from you, Your Highness.”

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Turns out the Royal Households have indeed been defined by their respective monarchs. And even in all of his displeasure for being forced into a marriage with a man with whom he only intended to share a bed and sometimes not even that much but now has to spend his lifetime with, tied by strings he refuses to acknowledge, Junmyeon has to accept that his brother at least gave him a little bit of joy in the form of the people that take the most important ranks of his private service. 

High Lady Joohyun, Lord Choi Youngjae, Miss Kang Seulgi and Viscountess Lim Yoona as his Lady Chamberlain, Private Secretary, Master of the Bedroom (a colorful name for the one in charge of his clothes) and Falconer (because finally Minseok recognizes his brother’s passion for falconry) respectively. On top of that he has twenty permanent servants, a stable boy, a butler, three lackeys, a doctor and a nurse. At least he has a considerable income granted by his brother’s crown until their own conjointly ruled principality holds a significant treasury.

Even surrounded by close associates, knowing that the castle he is set to live in will never be silent nor lonely, Junmyeon’s mood is sullen throughout his trip to the south. It’s a life he has not chosen for himself and that bothers him to the point of exhaustion.

After the end of Jongin’s wedding celebrations, Minseok took Junmyeon with him to their court in the valley to allow him to pick what he wanted to take with him and to bid goodbye to his nephew. 

“Once he has a son and a spare, that spare will be your replacement,” Minseok says, meant to be a throwaway line, just a silly comment. Yet, it made Junmyeon smile in a way that was faker than any theatrical play.

It didn’t feel nice to be treated like a replaceable object, used until he had nothing else to give or until someone else more interested showed up. Well, he has always been like that to certain people, but never for his family.

“Don’t sulk, Myeonnie” Joohyun tells him, placing a silky hand on his right cheek, velvet fingertips brushing his skin like a whisper “It will be alright, I promise you.” 

“Besides,” Yoona says, sorting her deck of fortune telling cards, “Your life strings are tied” her eyes, lined with kohl, fixate on Junmyeon. “Unhappiness is positively improper of such ties.”

“Viscountess, dear,” Youngjae comments, not even lifting his eyes from the pages of his book, “you are always positive and yet no one understands anything you say.”

Joohyun’s full blown laughter makes Junmyeon smile, mood lifting enough to let him appreciate the green landscapes outside his uncomfortable and cramped travel carriage. 

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Haeyong has had the opportunity to grow in the past few years that neither kingdom has waged war or engaged in skirmish fights over it’s naturally made bay. It has a bustling marketplace, with dozens of colorful tents set in between high carved columns and beautiful gardens. The houses vary from small red brick structures, fishermen and their families living by the mole, all the way to the complex buildings of exquisite architecture, with arches and hanging gardens. Like the villa Kyungsoo is currently exploring, for it is just two floors and not enough towers to be considered a castle, too many gardens, too many fountains, open galleries and wide balconies. 

As he stares from the parapet at the city below, Kyungsoo thinks that he could get used to living in this seaside retreat, even if he is not here for pleasure nor desire. 

Haeyong it’s beautiful, yes, but it’s also powerful, important. It’s in the perfect place, embedded where dozen trading routes cross. And it has natural resources of their own, the mountains behind the bay, that beautiful landscape that also makes some of their shores turn to cliffs, providing minerals, fresh water and coal. No wonder both kingdoms want it, no wonder they have fortifications on the cliffs around the city, trebuchets and scorpions looking down menacingly at the ships that slowly move to through the tranquil waters of the bay.

Prior to the agreement of both realms, Haeyong was in a state of crisis. No clear ruling, no clear allegiances, with the daughter of the former Chancellor, elected by a council of the Seventy Wisest as that collegiate of rich merchants was known, sitting in her home without any power but also as the only source of stability for the people who had trusted in her father to lead them. 

She negotiated with both crowns, proposed such an ambitious plan to protect their culture, their way of living, and the memory of her father. And in her castle were the future husbands meant to live until their dying days. 

Kyungsoo sincerely hopes his dying days come soon. 

Lady Mina, the daughter of the former Chancellor and a wonderful diplomat on her own right, has received him and the Goyang envoy with a small smile and clothes that would be rather immodest in the court he was raised in, with a neck low enough to expose the beginning of her breasts, skirt flowy and nearly transparent around her ankles. 

Needless to say, Chaeyoung would have been scandalized by this, and some of the ladies of his committee are too. Duchess Jisoo, however, has her eyes fixated on Lady Mina’s figure to the extent that Marchioness Lalisa has to pinch her arm to call her attention. Jaebeom, the spiritual aid of the Prince, also known as ‘not really a representant of the faith but almost became priest of the temple of the capital so people think I am an authority’, scoffs loudly and whispers something to his companion, Countess Sodam, that makes her laugh. 

As Kyungsoo walks with the woman down the pier, he idly thinks that his fiancé may have more fun than what he anticipated in this land, judging by the fact that most people he has seen are on the scarce side of clothing. This includes, but it’s not limited to, noblewomen, noblemen, sailors, soldiers, fishermen, all men shirtless, all women with nearly translucent fabrics. 

It shouldn’t bother him the idea of the Second Prince of the Kingdom of the Mountains frolicking with handsome strangers, yet it does. He pushes away such dumb thoughts and follows Lady Mina as she shows him around the villa she was raised in, that used to belong to her father and that now will be the inheritance of Goyang and the Mountain dwelling royals. 

“You look like you would enjoy the library,” she says, walking by his side with hands folded over her belly.

“Where is it?” Kyungsoo asks, distractedly looking at the garden and thinking how beautiful the roses look. 

“By the great fountains. It is also next to the music room” Lady Mina extends her arm, pointing with dainty fingers to the far right “It’s good to hear music when you read.”

Kyungsoo has arrived in Haeyong plenty of days ahead of his fiancé, since the distance between his birth city and his new hometown is shorter than from Junmyeon’s city. And it’s even shorter when done by sea, giving Kyungsoo time to seat himself properly in the residence and to try and fail to drown his concerns and questions. 

He fights his subconscious with long hours of training in the courtyard, Countess Sodam allowing him to have a remarkable opponent that has thrown him to the warm ground quite a few times. But every so often he would look at the side and feel like someone watches him, like the prince did back in Goyang. 

It’s silly and impossible, since the man is not in the villa. 

He trades the sword for books in the afternoons and he has to agree that Lady Mina was right in speaking so highly of the library. The room is bigger than most ballrooms in Goyang, with spacious rows that allow the light to shine brightly all over, big arched windows overlooking the greatests and most musical of fountains, making for a spectacular scenery to sit in front of as one reads a book about the culture and customs of Haeyong. Sometimes he thinks he sees someone in the garden, flowey lace and silk, but when he raises his head there is no one other than a few servants following the path of their daily afternoon tasks. 

By the time Junmyeon arrives in the city, Kyungsoo has a pretty general knowledge of the culture they have come to take part of. The port doesn’t experience the four seasons as most other realms do, they pretty much live in an eternal summer/spring cycle. In summer the temperatures rise high and the humidity makes it practically impossible to wear clothes, so they settle for flowy types of fabric, letting their bodies breathe the ocean breeze rather than suffocate in the heat. 

But he is sure Junmyeon knows this the moment he sees him walking out of his carriage with a triumphant smile, wearing black breeches, high boots and a lace shirt, half of the buttons open to show not only his chest but three thin gold chains, clicking softly as he strides forward to take Lady Mina’s hand and kiss her knuckles with a charming smile. 

“Hope I didn’t make you wait for too long, madame”

“Absolutely not, Your Highness,” she assures, then orders her servants around to help the incoming retinue and all of their lackeys. 

Junmyeon then turns to Kyungsoo, his smile is dampened but not entirely gone. He may be the most improper royal the Goyang man has ever met, but that doesn’t make it any less of a diplomat, albeit one scandalously dressed. 

“My dearest fiancé,” he greets, taking the hand Kyungsoo extends. 

“Prince Junmyeon,” he salutes in return, “it is a pleasure to see you again.”

Junmyeon scoffs, tilting his head to the side as a cocky smile takes over his lips “Going back to stiff and polite it is then, Your Royal Highness. See you at lunch time.” The prince turns to Lady Mina asking to be shown his new living space who in turn offers to guide him. 

“It’s in front of the room of His Highness, the prince of Goyang,” Mina says, repeating the same words she told Kyungsoo a week before. “They are the largest and most comfortable rooms in the villa and are connected through a beautiful gallery with high columns that offers the best views of the bay.”

“Oh, perfect,” Junmyeon says, sounding surprisingly sarcastical “I will have to barricade the leisure areas,” he mutters as he walks by Kyungsoo’s side and Kyungsoo is entirely sure he knew he’d be heard. 

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For a man who has been to his bed before, Kyungsoo surely knows how to play the part of a stranger. He is distant and excessively polite, stiff and… well, boring. 

Junmyeon has duties, nevertheless, and one of them is to prevent his brother’s mighty kingdom from losing this harbor. Fabric, spices and other important raw materials will reach the realm faster and more safely than through the earth routes or the northern ports, more often than not blocked by ice and storms. 

So, he may be his father’s less beloved child and his mother’s most disapproved son, but he is still a prince and duty, at least this duty, he will carry with as much dignity as possible. Of course, he will fit mischief and leisure in between dutiful hours, for he is not himself without the small pleasures of a life of privileges. 

Joohyun organizes most of his activities throughout the day, despite the fact that Youngjae is his private secretary. But, in the words of the young man, ‘High Lady Bae makes the appointments and I make sure His Highness doesn’t miss any of them’.

For the first few days, Junmyeon doesn’t really want to follow through with any of those appointments. He wants to organize his living space, place down the little portraits he managed to get from Nacheon, the capital of his brother’s kingdom, make sure his clothes are safely stored, and sleep, sleep, sleep. 

Free agency he never had, but that is a certainty of life for any born to royalty. The wealth and the gold do nothing to dampen the fear of being a puppet dancing on a string tied by someone else’s hands. Sometimes he thinks his father is to blame or his mother, but ultimately the gods of Nacheon and the gods of Goyang and the gods of the world and the beyond are the only responsible for his demise. 

So he sleeps and drinks plenty of water and walks out of his rooms only to see the sunrise and the sunset, until he sees Kyungsoo doing the same. And gods forbid, they rooms are indeed connected through the elegant gallery that serves as some sort of balcony, for it hangs over the cliff that overlooks the bay. They make eye contact briefly and Junmyeon panics when his betrothed steps forward, as if to speak to him, so he runs back into his room and calls Seulgi to help him get dressed. 

After that, he rarely walks to the gallery and when he does is only because he made sure beforehand that he wouldn’t be bothered by his future spouse. Enough is to know that he has been treated like nothing but a commodity by his family. Like Jongin, sure, but at least Jongin and his wife are happy. As soon as he arrived in Haeyong the news of Crown Princess Chaeyoung expecting her first child was waiting for him. 

Reclaiming what little freedom he has left becomes his new goal. And Joohyun’s daily plans are full of both entertainment and learning. So the tightly knit group sits in the shade of one of the hundreds of fruit trees that populate the gardens, drinking orange juice and low alcohol wine, eating as they repeat the little notes that Youngjae wrote for them. 

“Haeyong is one of the most ancient ports in the continent,” Junmyeon responds to the questions his friend made “tracing its history to at least a hundred years before what we have of written records of Nacheon and the first monarchs of the Kingdom of the Mountains.”

“Excellent!” he chimes, putting down that piece of paper and taking another one, “This one is about the customs.”

“The concept of virginity is not native to them,” Joohyun says, peeling an apple with dexterous fingers “As in, they don’t care if you have had sex or not before you wed someone”

“Well then,” Seulgi says, cleaning her skirts of bread crumbs, “I may be able to find a husband who doesn’t ask ‘how many have visited your bed?’ and be uncomfortable because Joohyun was the first one and they feel intimidated.”

Joohyun elbows her in the ribs and the group laughs uproariously. 

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Kyungsoo often comes across Junmyeon but the latter rarely acknowledges him. In such a large residence, meeting each other shouldn’t be so common, but it is and it burdens him that he can’t even initiate even the smallests of talks with his fiancé because he runs like a hare being chased by a fox. 

He tries to not mind it much, finding more comfortable to not have to pretend that he doesn’t feel awkward in the face of a man he only intended to have for as little time as possible, a one time venture rather than this for life situation. 

Even so, it’s hard to ignore a man like Second Prince Junmyeon. There is nothing subtle about him. Kyungsoo notices this more and more often as they get duties tied to their role as ruling parties of Haeyong. 

The pair encounters each other face to face more frequently as the time they have before the wedding ceremony shortens and shortens with each dusk. And it’s all duties, so they speak with each other about matters concerning the ruling of this land, foreign to both of them but that strangely feels to suit their personalities perfectly, albeit in different aspects. 

They don’t talk too much, but they do stare. Kyungsoo has seen his fiancé steal a glance or two, but he has to admit that he has shamelessly looked at the beautiful man by his side. 

How can one not stare when he dresses the way that he dresses?

And while Kyungsoo sticks with tried and true, simple dark breeches and shirts of thin fabric with elegant embroidery and a few small accessories to compensate for the absence of a jacket to polish his appearance, Junmyeon is pure extravagance. In breeches of soft cloth with shirts made of a myriad of fabrics lace, brocades, chiffon, fingers covered in rings and dangling earrings brushing his neck whenever he tilts his head. 

Kyungsoo has the strangest urge to pull that pretty earring with his teeth. 

And Kyungsoo lies, and he is painfully aware of that, when he tells himself that the only reason to look at Second Prince Junmyeon is because of the clothes that he wears. He tells his mind that he only stares because the man is objectively handsome and draped in those types of clothes no one could tear their eyes away from him. He does not stare because he seems deeply concerned with doing his duty to the best of his ability, eyebrows furrowed and shoulders squared as he listens to the many petitioners they speak to. 

They meet with merchants, members of the bourgeoisie and the highest ranks of the nobility respectively, attending to their petitions and skillfully finding ways to include them in their program of government. It takes a while to come to terms with Junmyeon, to agree on what to do and what not, but he has his heart in the right place. 

Junmyeon cares about those that have been mistreated by fate and live in the most disadvantaged areas of the city. And it shows in the way he asks about what has been done for them, what relief has been given to them, how many of their children have been given the opportunity to learn a trade or any sort of skill so when they grow they can abandon the state of poverty in which they were born. 

More often than not, no one has answers and he sulks. 

“Even in the wealthiest of cities, there are people without proper nourishment” he says when they walk out of their latest diplomatic encounter. 

“Some people must be poor in order for others to be rich, Your Highness,” Lady Mina says, shrugging. Kyungsoo finds it infuriating. 

“That sounds like you approve of the exploitation of children and widows,” Kyungsoo says, staring at the woman, who shakes her head, adamantly denying it but saying nothing else. 

Junmyeon tsks his tongue and storms off. Kyungsoo berates himself later, knowing he missed the opportunity to follow him and speak of this pressing issue, to finally have a reason beyond physical relief to spend time with him. 

Aside from these circumstances of imposed political calling, they barely speak to each other. Kyungsoo and Junmyeon only meet for dinner because Lady Mina enjoys hosting nightly soirees with the new inhabitants of the villa and their respective entourages as her only guests. 

Night after night, Kyungsoo sees Junmyeon openly flirt with Lady Mina, the elegant maiden brushing her long fingers over Junmyeon's veiny forearms as he says something that makes her blush, he has never seen him leave after her. Or after any one else for that matter. 

And that is something that makes his tender heart bruise, hurting itself in the thought of a thousand different possible emotions that may or may not be running through the course of the Second Prince’s royal blood. And what if he could mend it all by simply speaking to him, asking him a question or two, trying to get to know him rather than judging him by what he sees? 

Kyungsoo drinks another glass of champagne and goes to bed without daring to answer that question. 

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Exactly a month before the wedding is set to take place, Junmyeon and Yoona go alone out of the villa, escorted by two lackeys. 

It’s not because Junmyeon wanted to but rather because Yoona insisted. According to her, he needed to get out of his own mind ‘before the shadows grow too thick and you can’t see the light’. The prince doesn’t understand her, but follows suit when she suggests an afternoon of falconry in the expanse of the green fields above the cliffs of Haeyong. 

The conversations with Viscountess Yoona are always quite peculiar, in the best possible of ways. 

For all intents and purposes, Yoona is the older sister that Junmyeon never had. And in her long years as his closest associate and falconer partner, in fact she taught him the basics of falconry and soon enough he was following her footsteps to the tower of the birds, Yoona has always been interested in esoteric things and while Junmyeon is not a spiritual man per se, she has the power to make people listen to her, a charisma that would be deeply unnerving wouldn’t she use it to advice and take care of the people around her. 

So Junmyeon knows beforehand that he is making a mistake when he allows the rest of his friends to stagger, even though none of them enjoy the art of falconry and tend to whine and complain the entire time they ride with the bird loving duo. 

In between well spirited talks about life and the beyond, of what remains of us once we are gone, Yoona takes out her arrow and shoots. 

“Have you spoken to the prince of Goyang?” Yoona asks after a few rounds of unsuccessful hunt. 

“Yes, we have daily meetings and if he is up for it, he says something,” he jokes but when he turns, Yoona’s expression has turned sour. 

Her falcon, a majestic creature with a body the color of polished copper, returns to her with a mouthful, a squirming rabbit quickly killed and put in a basket by a diligent lackey. Junmyeon sees his own falcon, quick like lighting, descending gently over his arm, empty handed but elegant as always, his feathers softly moving in the breeze. 

“Tell me, Junmyeon, don’t you want to feel more than vacancy?”

Junmyeon sighs, “I am perfectly content how I currently am.”

“Are you?” she asks, it’s very normal for her to prompt his mind to run in circles with just a few questions “While you were in Goyang, did you pay attention to others?”

“No,” how could he, when the man had been charming even in his austere ways? When even after taking him he didn’t ditch him and kept coming back, made him come back to him? And it makes no sense to form an attachment just because you are treated better than you have ever been before, no sense to want more just because someone treats you with basic human decency. 

Yet he does want more, wishes his heart was akin to the one his dearest Yoona has, brave and bold and ready to jump without fear. But how can he not fear if all he has ever known is physical attraction, how can he not fear if Kyungsoo has not displayed any other thing than decency and polite distance? 

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he answers, putting the little cap over his falcon’s eyes and sending him back to his cage. “Nothing does, Viscountess.”

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“You are distracted!” Sodam yells, picking his sword from the ground and offering it back to Kyungsoo, who lies on the floor face down. He picks himself up slowly, pretending he has not been eating dirt for the past hour, and from the side Jisoo tells him to never surrender. 

For the sake of his distraction and the entertainment of those sitting on the sidelines of the courtyard, Kyungsoo agreed to ‘duel’ with Sodam. And he is a good soldier and a precise warrior, but it’s clear -at least for his opponent- that is not in his right mind. He is burdened by thoughts that started as silly inane fears and became haunting ghosts. 

“Rise up, TwinSoo!” the duchess yells. 

“You can do it!” Miss Kang Seulgi says. Right by her, High Lady Joohyun whisper-shouts that she is actually cheering for Sodam and Jaebeom says that he agrees with her. 

Contrary to the masters they serve, the two groups of foreigners had become quite close, making the villa’s life better, more lively, with gossip and laughs and picnics beside the enormous fountains. 

While Seulgi teaches the rest about the best types of fabrics to make comfortable clothing for this hot weather and Jaebeom speaks about the nature of the religion of Goyang, Sodam has been taking the time to teach those interested how to use a sword and, being a female clad in typically masculine outfits, all other ladies have swarmed around her like bees. Even so, amongst the very pretty ladies, Lord Youngjae had become the most prolific student, all in an honest pursuit of yet another knowledge to add to his extensive collection. 

“Take your sword back!” Sodam spits, throwing the blade to the feet of the prince. 

And so, another round of sparring begins and the cheering and booing from the sidelines rises and falls in synchrony with each blow. 

Finally, he beats Sodam, one victory over half a dozen of defeats, but he’ll take what he can and leave. 

“Well, Your Highness,” he hears one of the Nacheon ladies say and turns thinking she is speaking to him “You owe me!”

“No, he doesn’t!” Kang Seulgi retorts, “He put his bet on the prince”

“And the prince won only once,” Joohyun shrugs, extending her hand towards Second Prince Junmyeon, standing a few steps away from her “Pay up, Your Highness.”

Junmyeon sighs and takes out his index finger’s ring, a bulky silver piece with three small diamonds on top, putting it in the hands of Joohyun before his eyes meet Kyungsoo and he bows his head softly. 

“Better luck next time, I guess,” he says before turning around and leaving. 

Viscountess Yoona smiles softly, “Your Highness!” she calls, but not after Junmyeon, rather approaching Kyungsoo. “After this fruitful encounter I suppose you will be taking a long and thorough bath.” 

Kyungsoo feels his cheeks darken as he shrugs, suddenly aware of the sweaty state of his skin. Considering how nasty he smells, he won’t be out of the water in time for dinner. The woman smiles, wider this time, as she takes something out of the pocket of her dress. 

“It’s lavender powder,” she says, placing the small bag in his hands “If you put it in warm water it will leave your skin with a wonderfully floral perfume.”

“Thank you, Viscountess,” he bows his head softly.

“No, thank you, Your Highness,” Yoona’s smile is as contagious as it is “Ladies and gentlemen, if you wish to know some secrets of tomorrow, I have my fortune telling cards here and a bit of spare time” and soon, she steals the spotlight and Kyungsoo walks slowly towards his room. 

He commands the servants to prepare a bath and all but stops and stares in his double panel door, staring at the heavily ornate wooden door of his fiancé’s room, wondering if he could knock on it and receive an answer. 

Kyungsoo does not knock, but saves the possibility for later.

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Kyungsoo wakes up, painfully aware that he fell asleep on a settee and not in his bed. The cracking of his neck as he straightens up, making him wince and grimace, is telling of how well will he spend the rest of his night. 

After taking a long warm bath, he had all but skipped dinner and all it’s commodities and stayed in his room with his books and his jug of wine, eventually losing the battle against sleep. By the distinctive lack of chatter and steps, he can tell it’s way past midnight, and also that it’s raining. 

The prince approaches the half closed windows and peeks out, watching the slow and gentle rain pour over the bay. He thinks the gardens must look lovely at this time of night, barely illuminated and covered in droplets of water. And perhaps the easiest and less wet way of seeing, or feeling, inhaling the scent of brimming nature, would be from the library. 

With a little bit of courage and knowing sleep won’t come easy for him anyways, he takes the book he was already half way through, the first of twenty dense volumes of ‘Politics and Systems of Belief in the Known World’, and makes a run through the almost empty galleries, only slowing his pace once he comes across a soldier or two, dutifully guarding the paths around the garden.

But the door of the library is closed and Kyungsoo it’s too polite to dare to wake any of the staff to fulfill his silly whim. So he sighs and turns around… finding the door to the music room slightly open.

Despite knowing how to sing, holding his ground in that as well as he would do in the battlefield, he hasn’t visited the music room yet. Maybe he hasn’t been there because he is a naturally untalented person for musical instruments, his mother tried for six years to get him to play but even the simplest of pieces was too difficult for him, so she abandoned her attempts to make him a musically-awakened man and soon let him to his swords and battle axes. Perhaps this is his chance to get to know a new part of the villa, three weeks short of the wedding that will seal him as the co-joint owner of the property for life. 

Kyungsoo pushes the door open with his right hand, clutching his book against his chest with his left, and stepping inside like a heathen walks into a temple. And perhaps it is a temple, a divine structure built for musical gods, for there is a god in the piano, dressed in white and black, disheveled but still as divine as ever. He turns to look over his shoulder, the music that flooded the sacred vault coming to a sudden halt, and his eyes narrow. 

“Kyungsoo?” Junmyeon asks, as if he too were in disbelief of the person standing in front of them. 

“Yes,” he answers, closing the door behind him and bowing his head slowly. 

“Good night to you too,” the Second Prince says, scoffing. He then turns to the piano and it’s as if Kyungsoo had never walked in, the soothing sound of a melody he does not know watching him walk to a corner of the room, closest to one of the lightened lamps and to a window that overlooks the garden.

For a while it’s how it has been in the villa since they moved in, pretending the other is not there unless instructed to acknowledge each other, either by external pressure or by a duty that calls for them both. But then the music becomes different, melodically softer but stronger in a way, and the handsome man in the piano is singing, so low that it may as well be the wind blowing outside. And Kyungsoo can’t ignore the man any longer. 

It picks pace, the song and the voice, struggling to break the bubble around them and soon Junmyeon is singing as if no one could hear, even when a voice as melodic as that one should be heard by everyone in the world. 

Kyungsoo leans forward, unconsciously so, fighting to hear the song more clearly, to hear Junmyeon’s voice louder. As if on cue, the man turns his head and smiles, the singing stops but not the music, that picks pace and rises and falls like waves in the ocean, following the beautiful words that spill from those rosy lips. 

“I want you  
Please come to me quickly  
Due to the everlasting fluttering  
I can’t even draw you in my dream  
You’re the color I’ll never know”

“That was very beautiful,” Kyungsoo says, standing by the piano as if he had always belonged in such a position, watching the prince’s fingers move so dexterously across the tiles as he finishes his piece.

Junmyeon smiles, blushing as he speaks, “I wrote it.”

Kyungsoo stares at him, searching for a joke and smiling wide when he finds no trace of it. “So you are a man skilled in art as well as in politics,” he says, tapping his fingers on the polished surface of the piano. 

The prince in the piano scoffs, “art is only forté, I’m not good at politics.”

“Nonsense, you convinced selfish and stingy nobles to donate some of their gold in order to build a school” Kyungsoo leans over the cover. “You are a diplomat at heart, Your Highness, don’t berate yourself.”

“Your Highness?” Junmyeon exclaims, eyebrows almost touching as he frowns. “Are you seriously going to keep up this? After I sang you a song I made? More importantly, after countless of times that I have had my mouth around your-”

“Enough, enough!” Kyungsoo says, struggling to speak as he laughs.

Junmyeon slaps the back of his hand, “Quit laughing at me!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” Kyungsoo smothers his laughter, but can’t fight the smile that creeps up his lips “You are adorable when you get angry, Junmyeon.”

“I’m not adorable,” the adorable man says, “but I am pleased you finally call me by my name”

“It’s a pleasure, Myeonnie.”

“Don’t push it,” the other says angrily, but his lips betray him as the corners of his mouth lift in a small but extremely adorable smile. 

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It’s easy to speak with Junmyeon. Not because he is an easy man. Quite on the contrary, Junmyeon is very complex, delightfully so. He is a being with dreams and aspirations beyond simply wearing the most fashionable of clothes. 

He wants to travel to distant lands and learn about their cultures and customs, living such a dream through his Private Secretary and his endless stream of foreign books -both prohibited and allowed texts-. He wants to learn new languages and hear in their native tongues the stories of old gods and adventurers he has been told since he was a child. And he wants to be loved as much as he wants to love, thoroughly, honestly, truly. 

Junmyeon did not explicitly state the latter, but the colour of the water is easier to be seen once you get closer to the fountain. And by now, Kyungsoo has memorized the sound of the falling water. 

Kyungsoo has spent seven continuous nights in the music room, hearing Junmyeon play his favorite melodies and even introduce him to some self-written works. The Second Prince is quite talented in writing, but when Kyungsoo suggests he should write a poetry book he simply shrugs it off as not being something he can do.

“Of course you can,” Kyungsoo replicates, sitting in an armchair by the right side of the piano “If you have written songs about love, longing and heartbreak you have already done what the poets have been doing for centuries. You quite honestly mastered the task”

Junmyeon laughs and shakes his head softly, “You think too highly of me.”

“It would be difficult to think of you in any other way,” Kyungsoo takes his eyes from the prince and back to his book, feeling his cheeks. 

“Why would it be difficult, Kyungsoo of Goyang?” Junmyeon asks, sarcasting and taunting like only he could be. For Kyungsoo, it’s becoming quite an endearing trait. 

“Because there is nothing low about you,” Kyungsoo shrugs, “You are kind, talented in art and diplomacy, you have an eye for what’s real and what’s fake. You are a mirror, you see through people but make it hard for people to see through you.” He closes his book, looking at no point in particular, lost in thought. “Well, in retrospect it is easy to see you as someone with no relevance, because you make it that way. You have made yourself unseen, unnoticed, seemingly irrelevant. Yet you are here, clever and kind despite the fact that you didn’t choose this path, giving your all for this feeble treaty to remain strong.” 

When Kyungsoo stops talking, his eyes fall like they always do to the shiny little brown mirrors that rest within Junmyeon’s eyes and sees them slightly shinier than usual. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, visceral concern pushing him to stand up and approach the man “Have I offended you?”

Junmyeon shakes his head, turns around and pats the empty space in the bench by his side. Kyungsoo stares for a moment, brain caught in between being a respectful man and sitting back in the velvet armchair or following his inherent need to be as close as possible to this portrait of imperfect perfection that keeps him awake at night. 

He succumbs to himself and to the brown eyes that call him like a siren song, whispering about art masters and the history they have painted in a hundred different canvases, and the Second Prince inhales deeply before starting to play a new song. 

“It’s a sacred song,” he says as note after note flow from his pretty fingertips “Back in Nacheon a priestesses would play it for the wedding ceremonies and the attendees would chant prayers alongside it. Wealth, happiness, prosperity, love, those were the main things said in the prayers. My mother sang the prayer for fertility during my oldest brother’s wedding, holding the hands of her daughter in law and repeating half a dozen times how they wished for a healthy child” A sad smile overtakes Junmyeon’s expressful features, “It is sad that I won’t be hearing those prayers.”

“Why not?” Kyungsoo asks.

Junmyeon scoffs, “As far as I am aware I have no space to bear children” 

“Ah, of course…” Kyungsoo feels foolish for not taking into consideration that particular fact, but then the urge to hear the prayers that make this beautiful man happy overpowers is shame “Could you teach me the other prayers? The ones about wealth and happiness and… and love”

The Second Prince nods, “I have a small book about them in my room if you would like to learn them.”

“I’d rather have you teach them to me.”

Junmyeon stares at him for a second, finishing the song with a sudden halt, maybe doubting that he heard correctly. But then he smiles and moves so he is facing Kyungsoo. “Well, the prayer of love is the easiest” he announces, tapping Kyungsoo’s thigh as if instructing him to move to face him too, and the man of Goyang does as he is told. “The groom and the bride would hold hands, look into each other’s eyes and repeat the words.” 

Junmyeon grabs Kyungsoo’s hands, gently as if Kyungsoo would break if he did it too hard or as if he was afraid of being rejected. This latter thought grabs Kyungsoo by the throat, making him instinctively hold his betrothed’s soft silky hands like life depends on it. The Second Prince looks at him with widened eyes that fall as a tender smile takes over his pink lips.

“Repeat after me,” he instructs and proceeds when Kyungsoo nods. “Gods of the world that made us, make us true, make us honorable, make us loyal and make us feel what no other could.” A subtle blush covers his cheeks and Kyungsoo fights the urge to cup his face and kiss the tip of his nose, like the lovesick fool he is. “That is all, although some traditions say you are meant to repeat it under an open sky for it to be heard by the gods.”

“Then we better hold the ceremony in the gardens,” Kyungsoo states, shrugging “Wouldn’t want to risk the gods not listening to us.”

Junmyeon doesn’t say anything, just looks into his eyes and frowns. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, leaning back, eyebrows furrowed. 

‘Nothing’, Kyungsoo would say if his throat wasn’t as dry as a desert. ‘Desperately asking you to feel something for me’, his heart screams but it’s covered in a shroud, not allowed to speak freely yet struggling to say something. 

“Telling you I care about you,” he finally says, fighting to keep his voice steady. 

“Why?”

“Because…” do it, speak, be free, his heart screams and suddenly the walls fall and the castle of make believe stoicism is ready to be ransacked. “Because I don’t feel love for you” he blurts out, Junmyeon’s confused expression making him force himself past the bridge of disgusting awkwardness “But I might. I am on the path to loving you, I know it because I can’t stop thinking about you. I hear your voice when I go to bed, see your face in every dream, take your hand in every stupid fantasy. There is not a moment of silence when I don’t feel like seeing your smile would lighten up the sky.” Kyungsoo clears his throat, turning to the side before his last strand of confidence runs out. “I’m sorry for speaking this way to you, but I’m not sorry for feeling like I do.”

Junmyeon's eyes have never been more intrusive than in this moment, as they cut straight into Kyungsoo’s macerated heart. “So, you do not love me but you think you will?”

“If I am completely honest, with you and with myself, I don’t even know what I feel, but I feel something and it’s strong and breaking me apart” he admits, sighing in defeat.

The sound of a high pitched laughter dazes him and the sight of Junmyeon’s lips extending over a delightful smile, head slightly thrown back and eyes tightly shut, makes him frown. The Second Prince gathers himself but the smile on his lips doesn’t die down, it keeps growing and it makes Kyungsoo want to smile too. 

“What a strange man you are, Kyungsoo of Goyang,” and before Kyungsoo can reply something, those sweet velvety lips press against his mouth and he is lost. 

No one knows how much a kiss is worth until you have been deprived of it for so long that the taste of it feels like happiness. 

“Apologies for being too forward with my manners,” Junmyeon says, catching his breath “but that is the only language I know.”

Kyungsoo is foolish enough to ask, “And what does a kiss mean in this language of yours?”

“That love is a choice and I choose to feel it today if you choose me as well.”

“That is pretty poetic,” Kyungsoo says, stupidly, blindly lost in the way Junmyeon smiles. 

Junmyeon laughs, “Perhaps I will write a poetry book.”

“I would read it without hesitation.”

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At the doorstep of his room, three hours past midnight, Junmyeon turns around. 

In seconds, he ponders about everything that has been said and done, in what was left in the corners of their minds and what has spilled through the cracks. 

In seconds, he wonders if it would be too wrong to grab Kyungsoo by the hand and pull him inside his room, if it would be bad to admit he wants to be with him like he has been with any other lover, like he has with him before.

It's not often that he questions the nature of his mind, the nature of what he feels or understands about someone. Desiring Kyungsoo felt natural before, his body is a temple and Junmyeon is well past being a worshipper of beauty, and the way he delivers pleasure is nothing short of beautiful and mind numbing in the best of ways. 

So he stares in the seconds his mind shuts down, then smiles when the man turns around to wave him goodnight and struggles against himself with the thought of following him like a puppy follows a child, blindly and selflessly. And it would be heaven if he only wanted to share a bed and nothing else, if he only wanted to hug him and sleep and nothing else. 

It's scary to fall for someone, Junmyeon thinks, mostly when you have committed yourself to believe that no one could fall for you and that no one would want to fall for you and in turn you have made yourself an unreachable marble god, only available when you wanted to be. To be a god is lonely though, so perhaps being pulled from the altar right into the ground where mortals and nice people like Kyungsoo of Goyang live is not the worst of things to happen. 

"Good night," he answers to the smiling man and walks right into his room. 

And as he is taking his shoes off, gentle amberine light from his oil lamp following his movements, someone knocks the door. 

“My room is too lonely,” Kyungsoo says as the door opens. 

The top buttons of his shirt are undone, it would be easier to grab his collar and pull him in against his body. But his earnest need is not to be fucked but rather to be held, to hug and rest his head against his ribcage and feel a steady heartbeat. 

“Oh,” Junmyeon answers, not knowing quite well what to say. He steps aside to let him in. 

They waltz around each other for a moment, Junmyeon moving from the door to the edge of the bed and back to the door, stopping in front of the vanity, awkwardly balancing on his toes. Kyungsoo simply stands in the center of the room, away from the bed and the door, hanging in between dimensions. 

“Junmyeon?” Kyungsoo asks. 

Junmyeon hums. 

“Can I stay with you?” he whispers, hesitant movements taking him closer.

Junmyeon shrugs, “only if you want to.” 

“I want to stay.”

In the end, Kyungsoo stays and despite them sliding under the sheets together, wearing only thin small clothes, the closest they get is when Junmyeon turns around and Kyungsoo’s arms slide around his waist, perfect fit as if they were made to be in that precise place. 

And it’s good, to be held and to hold, to love in a way that is tender and soft, to let your heart be as warm as the weather outside. 

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In the gentle light of the new day, Junmyeon looks every bit like an ethereal being. And it’s not very nice of him to creepily stare, follow with his eyes the lines he wishes he could trace on the skin of his arm, his shoulder, his back…, but how can one not stare when he looks the way that he looks?

Junmyeon’s skin glows under the dim morning light, pale gold in the sun, sheets pooling around his hips, twisted and trapped between his legs. With his eyes tightly shut, pouty lips and rosy cheeks, it’s tempting in the gentlest of ways. 

Kyungsoo, resting on his elbow and hovering a few breaths away from the sleeping figure, wonders how can one be so infuriating when awake, so desperately willing to cause havoc in someone else's heart, and so beautiful yet so unaware of it when they sleep. It's peaceful and it's endearing and Kyungsoo's mind trails away and is only aware that his fingers have touched Junmyeon's cheeks when he awakes and his eyes, his bonny shining eyes, pierce through his heart. Then Junmyeon smiles. 

"Good morning," his coarse, sleep-ridden voice mutters.

"Good morning," Kyungsoo replies, dumbfounded when the prince smiles and his eyes turn to happy little crescents. 

"Will you kiss me or this is just you taunting me?" Junmyeon says through a yawn, closing his eyes as the sunlight catches his face. 

Kyungsoo tilts his head to the side, grateful to be granted with the opportunity to see the raw, bare, authentic man he is set to marry."Do you want me to kiss you?" he asks, fixated on every movement Junmyeon makes. 

"Only if you want to," the beautiful man answers. 

Kyungsoo doesn’t even pretend to think about it, he just dives forward, starving for the sweet nectar of his lips. 

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They kiss for a long time, but it’s not hurried, not desperate, it’s not like all those times before when the hunger for something else made the kisses a mere preliminar experience. This is something important in itself, the wandering hands, the taunting little pecks, the giggles, the shifting around until Kyungsoo sits comfortable over Junmyeon, gazing at him like all the stars were in his eyes. 

Kyungsoo doesn’t speak much in bed, but he acts, moves. His fingertips follow a thousand different paths, connect every mole in his skin and then some. Kyungsoo maps out the expanse of his body, bends his knees and presses their aching bodies closer, traces circles over his hip bones, caresses his inner thighs, kisses him thoroughly when he gets impatient and whiny. And Junmyeon is squirming and trembling, but it’s good, feels good, tastes good. So he lets himself be opened by skilled hands, the threads that keep his body together dissolving with each gentle caress. 

In the tourneys of Goyang they have called him the Bull, not knowing he was a prince of royal blood, albeit not the heir to the throne. And that is the man Goyang knows, stern and stoic, marble and ebony. When he straddles Kyungsoo’s lap, hands roaming up and down his thighs, doe eyes wide open over a heart shaped smile, Junmyeon feels more than glad that he has gotten to know the softer, tender flesh underneath the knightly armor. 

And in the heat of the moment, Kyungsoo screams his name and in turn, Junmyeon is gone. 

“How can anyone not love you?” Kyungsoo whispers, spent and glowing so radiantly, wrapping his arms around Junmyeon’s body, pressing a sloppy kiss to his sweaty temple. “How can anyone not want to be with you forever? How can I be any other thing but entirely smitten by you?”

Junmyeon hides his head in the crook of Kyungsoo’s neck, hoping it muffles his pathetic sniffles. 

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In Haeyong, the midday sun is dangerously hot, paradise birds taking refuge in the many branches of the tallest trees and most people sheltered in their high ceiling homes. The fountains of the villa’s garden provide some relief but it’s not enough to avoid ending drenched in sweat, sticky skin under elegant garments. But that is only for the newcomers, for the King of the Kingdom of the Mountains and his husband, for the Crown Princess of Goyang and her prince consort, and all of those envoys that followed them to the wedding that is to take place early noon. 

On the other hand, the new inhabitants of the palace, the small entourages from Goyang and the Mountains that arrived nearly two months ago and are now virtually indistinguishable from one another, are prepared for the heat. The girls have their hairs braided and held up in a complicated and elegant fashion, leaving their necks and shoulders exposed, and the men have cutted their hairs to do the same, and both wear thin fabrics and light shoes that allow them to stay mildly comfortable throughout the events. 

The grooms are no less prepared, no less ready to confront the heat. Living in the villa for such a short time has already made them better able to stand the rising temperatures, taking in the mantra that daylight may be harsh and unforgiving, but moonlight is tender and kind, especially with lovers who know what love means. 

And Junmyeon is eccentric by nature, dresses in scandalous lace and linen, patterns painted on his sleeves because it is believed by the lowfolk of Haeyong that such decorations -colorful flowers, fierce tigers, elegant swans- give good luck and many blessings to newly weds, breeches made of thin comfortable fabric instead of the harsh leather the visitors wear. 

And Kyungsoo wears his soldier uniform, adapted to withstand such heat, thinner materials and the most important medals hanging from the sturdy shoulders of the black jacket, and salutes respectfully at the crowned and future-crowned heads that sit in the front, a few steps away from the altar. He also takes Junmyeon’s hand as they walk the few steps together, kneels as he does and repeats the sayings that are mandatory in the ceremony. 

In the disparity of their appearance and tastes rests one fundamental thing in common: the need and the desire to love and be loved, to know and be known like one wishes to know all the secrets of the universe. 

When the wedding is over, when the dances are all done, the food has been eaten and the drinks have been engulfed by the guests eager to drown the heat, Junmyeon and Kyungsoo take a seat in the gallery that unites their rooms. 

Kyungsoo pushes the small love seat to the centre, making sure the spot is the best to watch the bay under their feet, and then extends his hand to guide Junmyeon to his side of the seat. The former Second Prince, now Prince of Haeyong and the Great Bay alongside his brand-new spouse, leans his head on the shoulder of the former Prince of Goyang and holds a little bit tighter the hand that holds his.

Kyungsoo thinks idly of how in less than a year he has been pushed away from what he thought life wanted of him. He was just the half-bastard son of a king that expected to move back into his mother’s house and take care of her until she passed away, maybe find someone to take care of him before his own death came and then fade into nothing in the annals of history. He did not expect to drink expensive wine and eat small blueberry tarts in the gallery of a grand and elegant villa in one of the most disputed places of the continent, holding between his arms a man who expected to be treated like an irrelevant relative until his dying days, another faded in the footnotes of history character. 

And yet, when the sun rises, Junmyeon is still there and whispering I love you in between sleepy yawns, proving he is more than just a nighttime illusion, more than a dream.

“That night,” Junmyeon says as dawn covers the land in tender colors, “in the music room, when it was raining. You smelled of lavender.”

“Did you not like it?” Kyungsoo asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“I loved it” his husband whispers, pressing closer to Kyungsoo and kissing his neck softly “When I feel sad I smell lavender, it makes me think of beautiful things.”

“Am I a beautiful thing?”

“You have been since that night” the prince confesses, blushing “Now I can’t smell lavender without thinking of you.”

With those pink pouty lips so close to him, Kyungsoo saves for later the idea of speaking to his husband about raising Viscountess Yoona’s monthly pay. 

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“ _...I worship at the temple of your body and without you, I'd have no art... _ ”   
― John Geddes, A Familiar Rain


End file.
